


Blue Nights

by Evak2121 (AngAngLove)



Series: gods cry too [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: AU, Ballet Dancer!Even, Christmas, M/M, Punk!Isak, money issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngAngLove/pseuds/Evak2121
Summary: "Still, he missed him more than he thought he could on a Christmas Eve."





	Blue Nights

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's a continuation of "Gods" and I thought I would make it into a series and add another 4 parts (because I have a title for each part, which I actually like it..). Hope you enjoy this little thing :) 
> 
> My lovely friend Squal helped me with English a little bit and I'm so thankful (Still, I'm sorry if it's a bit awkward, English is not my first language)

* * *

 

 

The night was so cold it almost seemed blue. Walls in their flat thin like paper sheets, Isak could almost hear the snow falling. Big flakes fragile like trust.

 

His hands were pink, almost purple in the blue light of the evening. Winter at 5pm was cold, but he wasn’t, because sometimes you get used to the feeling, you’re setting a new record each night.

You both curl under the fluffiest blanket you can find and you talk to each other in white clouds.

 

Isak wasn’t cold, but he wished he could bury his face in Even’s warmth – flesh heating up when two bodies collide, flames too high and too bright for their eyes to see. You could hear the wood crackling and sizzling, moans loud and honest. He wished he could touch and touch and touch and never stop touching. Hands burnt and hearts full – love in the making.

 

It almost seemed unhealthy how much he was craving Even, how hungry he was for the tiniest touch. But Isak knew they couldn’t be together minute after minute, because life happens and you can’t help but participate.

 

So Isak was waiting, patient and in love, because he knew he’d be rewarded – a smile, a kiss, and a quiet ‘i love you’. And quiet ‘i love you’s were his favourite. He didn’t need loud confessions in the middle of the night. No explosions, no ‘princess Vivian!”, no uprisings. Even liked love that was so big, timeless confessions that people wrote poems about. Isak didn’t.

 

Just a quiet ‘i love you’ when they would wake up at the same time with morning breaths and morning woods. A quiet ‘i love you’ because the walls in their flat were thin like paper sheets and– “Even stop, people can hear!” but Isak was weak, so weak for boys like Even with eyes bluer than cold nights and gentle hands. And Isak wasn’t used to gentle hands. He’d seen violence molded like clay in hands of strangers he’d met at bars.

 

Isak wasn’t born to see violence. So Even would coat him in compassion and Isak never forgot how to be human.

 

The evening was cold, but Isak wasn’t, because it was December 24th and he could hear the laughter from the Christmas market. Their flat was poorly decorated – white fairy lights (half of them already flickering, some broken altogether) that Even’d taken from KB and a terrible drawing of a Christmas tree, because there wasn’t enough money to buy a real one that would smell of the woods and soil and fresh air. Instead, they had a cardboard shadow, which still made Even smile whenever he looked at it, because it was purple and Even liked purple.

 

So it was December 24th and Isak was waiting. Hair longer again, waves of honey dripping down his forehead disappearing in the wild green forest. His nails black like a void. He was sitting by the window, a cup of green tea in his hand. It would always make Even warm,

or maybe it was Even that made everything warmer with his heart on fire and home in his arms.

 

And Isak missed him so much and it was ridiculous, because they saw each other in the morning with fresh minds, big grins, and love that wasn’t exhausted yet.

Oh dear god, he turned into everything he said he’d never be. His body warm, eyes light and heart heavy, because boys like Even loved too strong. He liked the weight.

 

Still, he missed him more than he thought he could on a Christmas Eve. He felt lonelier than he’d ever felt before, because you don’t feel lonely when loneliness is all you know, but once you have someone who cares what you’re doing at 3am when you can’t sleep it makes it all much worse. Suddenly, you matter and your actions matter and you have to take responsibility.

 

But if you have someone who cares what you’re doing at 3am, they forgive all your mistakes. And at the end of the day the fact that you matter doesn’t sound terrible and you don’t cry anymore. You finally matter. Isak smiled.

 

He was wearing the same pink sweater that he got from Even last year for Christmas. It was that cotton candy colour that made him look at least 5 years younger. It was cashmere, because that was what Even’d said (It wasn’t cashmere, he didn’t have money for that). Isak didn’t know those fancy words. He knew feelings. And he liked it. He liked soft things. Their neighbour’s cat, the old blanket Even’d taken from home, Even’s hair, and his lips, and his fingertips, and the way he would look at Isak before they fell asleep. Isak smiled.

 

He felt soft. And it felt so weird. He smiled and smiled and smiled and he couldn’t stop smiling. He’d been so tough for so many years. A boy with no family and one leg already in Hell.

 

When he was 17 he’d believed the universe forgot about him. He didn’t have any important parts to play. Maybe Jonas would miss him, but he would be fine eventually. Some tears and a thought once in a while.

But Isak lived on, because there was nothing else to do. He would drink cheap beer (he still did), and shave his head four times a month (now he did it four times a year), and he would sleep in abandoned places or crash at strangers’ (now he had a place to come back to and be loved).

 

He took a sip of his tea. Once. Then twice. He put the mug down and he touched his left arm and smiled again. He really hoped Even would like his present.

 

It was a cold night, but Isak wasn’t cold, because two minutes later there were arms around him and a quiet ‘i love you’.

 

(“Oh my god, Isak!”

“This is my name on your arm! You’re so stupid.”

“Isak”

“I love you so much”)


End file.
